Did you adopt? Did you buy from the pet-store? Did you get a kitten from your friend’s litter?

You see, my mother recently decided that we were going to finally get a cat. I say finally, because we have decided this at least four times in the last eight years, to very unspectacular results.

we own this book, and at age 12, i read the whole thing

This time doesn’t seem drastically different, because although we made up our minds as to how we were going to acquire a cat – we were going to adopt one – my mother has her heart set on getting a cat that also serves as interior decoration.

this would seem like the ideal solution (in fact, her comment on this picture was “actually, that’s beautiful”)

So, we got to searching every conceivable adopt-a-pet website for the most flawless animal we could find.

Not so difficult, you say? There are plenty of gorgeous cats, you say?

The problem was, my mother and I appear to have different tastes in cat.

Yes, because while I had previously believed my own preferred type of cat to be the universally appreciated one, I was apparently quite mistaken.

My choices were labelled “skinny”, “emaciated”, “ugly”, “scary”, “revolting”, “pitiful”, and my personal favorite: “depressed“. We wouldn’t want to get a cat in need of professional therapy, would we?

i feel like decision making would be simpler

Also, update: The cat can’t smell like a cat.

In other words, we probably won’t be getting a cat.

But we can always satisfy our longing for the feline creatures by consuming multiple hours of cat-videos on YouTube. And indeed, we have done this in the past.

i find it mildly concerning that not only is this an option, but ONE HOUR? #simslogic #underoroverstatement?

The best way to do this is by typing in “cute fluffy cat“, and then judging the fluffiness of the cats in question, while leaving insulting comments if the alleged “fluffy” cat is not fluffy enough.

that may or may not have happened…

Basically, I will most likely end up a crazy cat lady, while my mother goes through pages and pages of what she described as “a dating website for cats”, wishing she were a crazy cat lady.

That is a direct quote, people. (And now we know the truth. Cloning should definitely be [il]legal.)

Basically, I can’t wait to live vicariously through my kids :D – and the dating world will be better for it, because I am determined to make my sons the most well-behaved gentlement on the planet. Thank me later ;)

clearly, the internet provides great parenting advice, so i’m all set

Also, talk about big, stylish plans for my daughters.

#takingittoofar?

If we’re going to be honest here, the only thing getting in my way of being the equivalent of Mary Poppins is my extreme egotism and singleness.

And I am very gradually coming to the conclusion that it might be time to change out the cardigans and scarves I’ve been wearing for clothes that will allow my skin to breathe and develop that radiant, healthy, sun-kissed glow.

i feel like that dress doesn’t do much for her complexion, but this is the color i’m going for

The only issue is, in order to wear summer clothing, I must own summer clothing.

In order to own summer clothing, I must buy summer clothing.

This is a very real obstacle.

See, what happens in clothing stores (and let’s be honest: we know I mean H&M #forlife) is that I walk in, all confident and cheerful, I drag myself around the aisles – despite armpit sweat and questionable oxygen levels – picking and choosing, like a good customer should.

Well.

Then, after standing in line for the changing rooms for *five minutes* (half and hour), I get to trying the things on.

And suddenly, the mirrors are surrounding me!

The flourescent lights are blinding my eyes, all I can do is to squint suspiciously at my reflection…

Searching for the clothes I supposedly just put on… And the terror hits me!

please pay us 30 bucks to be naked :)

My knees wobble.

I desperately attempt to free myself from the strips of fabric.

Whimpering, I slide down the wall and hit the floor.

My body, once so motivated and full of life, now lies helplessly on the scratchy carpet, waiting to be rescued.

One leg halfway through a pair of hot-pants, price-tags strewn around me like bullets.

Limbs twitching.

I….can’t…go on….

Accepting the vicious, cruel reality of what is now considered fashion, I consider the advantages of nudism.

I was just talking about how I seem to have travelled to a land of a different age (Ticino, no wifi, you may remember), but who would’ve thought that I would delve into yet another magical realm?

Now, perhaps some of you share my deep fascination with historical happenings, and even if you don’t, there must at least be a certain appreciation for the soldiers and the fighting of World War II (all wars, really).

Regardless; Last Christmas, I found myself watching the BBC series “Band of Brothers” (based on the book) as if my life depended on it. I finished it in one day, and then started right over and watched it all again. It was the first time I had really gotten into it, and there was no going back.

(For those who don’t know: “Band of Brothers” is about Easy Company, 506th Regiment, 101st Airborne in World War II. They were the guys who invaded the Normandy on D-Day, June 6th. For those who don’t know what that means: Wikipedia.)

I then proceeded to binge-watch every WWII movie I could find – Schindler’s List, The Pianist, Saving Private Ryan, and the like – and simultaneously consuming pages and pages of Wikipedia articles – basically just reading, watching, and crying all week. #timeofmylife

at one point i think i was actually crying while explaining to my brother why he absolutely had to do the same – he didn’t seem convinced…for some reason

Well, having just recently been exposed to “La Vita E Bella”, as well as having a surviving Jew visit our school and recount his experience of the war, I decided that a little mid-summer depression would be appropriate, which is what has gotten me where I am now.

I have started reading the book “Band of Brothers”.

And by “started”, I mean I’m half way through and I’ve cried twice, the rest of the time just basking in the bad-ass.

Being close to eighteen years old, this book is making a huge impression. It would at any age, really, but let me explain why:

Most of the enlisted men were only slightly older than all of my guy friends – some the same age – so after watching the series, all I could do in class was sit there, envisioning horrible, tragic deaths for all of my male classmates, bringing myself close to tears (all while in complete silence). I must have looked *mildly* insane, actually.

*look normal*

Reading the book is of course bringing all of these thoughts and emotions back.

So, the sun shines and the flowers bloom and I sit beside a sparkling lake, with mountains in the distance and happy, chattering people surrounding me.

While reading about the terrors of WWII.

And it’s AWESOME.

It brings these people all back to life, and it makes you realize how important all those individual men were, and at the same time, how small you, one person, really are. All of those young men – almost still children, really – deserve to be remembered.

Anywho, this has turned into a bit of a ramble, but I needed to share this with you. You get it, surely.